


Early Warnings Fail

by Ionaonie



Series: The Bond Files [5]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Bond is a menace, Humor, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-22
Updated: 2012-11-22
Packaged: 2017-11-19 06:33:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/570263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ionaonie/pseuds/Ionaonie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Q suppressed a groan as 007 strode into his office, suit impeccable as always, a slight smirk settled on his face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Early Warnings Fail

**Author's Note:**

> Not betaed. All mistakes are mine and if you see anything glaringly obvious, let me know.

A loud thump on the glass pane of his office made Q jump and his fingers skittered across the keyboard, making random letters appear on his screen. No equation was supposed to look like that. 

He blinked a couple of times to bring everything back into focus. Sally was glaring at him through the window and then looked pointedly at the floor. Following her gaze, he saw a stress ball lying innocently on the floor, now abandoned. It was Q Branch’s universal sign that a 00 had unexpectedly entered the lab. 

Q suppressed a groan as 007 strode into his office, suit impeccable as always, a slight smirk settled on his face. 

He glanced over his shoulder at the stress ball. ‘Nice early warning system.’ 

With a finger pressing down on the Back Space button, Q scowled at Bond. ‘We like it.’ 

With the situation in East Sudan being what it was, Q really didn’t have time for Bond’s theatrics. 

Never show weakness, that was what his mother had always told him. It seemed sage advice when dealing with 00’s, but 007 in particular. Once Bond knew he could elicit a response from Q, he’d become infinitely more annoying. And he was already plenty annoying. Infuriating, even.

‘I don’t think your intern likes me much,’ Bond said, bypassing the empty chairs and walking round to lean against the edge of the desk, right next to Q’s elbow. In fact, all Q had to do was be a little less economical with his movement, and he would nudge Bond’s thigh every time he moved. It was tempting, but ultimately pointless. And more than faintly ridiculous.

Q raised an eyebrow in question. 

‘I dropped off the prototype and she made a noise that suggested she’d like to disembowel me.’ Bond didn’t sound concerned, just curious. Maybe even amused. Only 00 agents found threats of disembowelment amusing. 

‘That’s Dr Morrow.’ Off Bond’s blank look he sighed. ‘She’s one of our leading research developers.’ 

‘So not an intern then.’

‘No, Bond. Not an intern.’ 

Bond nodded, more to himself than Q. ‘So that would be why she wants to kill me,’ he mused. 

‘Well, that and you keep breaking or losing her new creations. It’s making her a little tetchy.’

‘I thought they were all the product of your own personal genius.’

Q studiously ignored both the fact that Bond had called him a genius and the warm feeling spreading through his chest. It wasn’t that he didn’t know he was nearly one of a kind, or that he needed anyone to validate how good he was at what he did, but Bond had been ribbing him about his age and experience since they’d met nearly three months ago and this was the first time it hadn’t been accompanied by anything sarcastic or mocking. 

‘This department comprises of more than twenty people. Not to mention three further sub-divisions. Nothing that comes out of Q Branch would be possible without their combined input.’

‘I apologise. Consider me suitably chastised.’ 

Q snorted. He couldn’t imagine Bond ever being chastised, suitably or otherwise. 

‘What did you do to Gemma, I mean, Dr Morrow’s, prototype?’ 

‘Nothing.’

Q sagged back in his chair, resigned to bad news. ‘Bond?’

‘I tested it. As requested.’

Q took a deep breath before fixing Bond with what he hoped was a steely gaze. ‘How many pieces is it in?’ 

‘Two or three.’ He cocked his head, almost thoughtfully. ‘Four, tops.’ 

‘Four?’ Q repeated. ‘And you wonder why Dr Morrow kind of hates you a lot.’

‘This wasn’t my fault.’

‘I’m not even going to ask.’

‘It’s all in my report.’

‘Your report?’ Q repeated faintly. 

It was only as Bond handed over a file - almost gleefully, if you asked Q - that he even realised Bond had had it with him the whole time. 

‘You wrote a report?’ He sat up straight and flicked through it to confirm that, yes, this was indeed written in Bond’s own hand. 

‘That’s procedure, isn’t it?’ 

‘You just do this to mess with me, don’t you?’ 

‘I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.’

Q rolled his eyes but decided against pushing the matter. This was the first report 007 had completed concerning the experimental equipment they were trying to get out in the field since Q had made them mandatory. Perhaps he should get it framed. ‘But you are right, you know.’ 

Bond cocked his head slightly. ‘About what?’ 

‘My interns,’ he said, putting down the file and re-reading the code in front of him. There was a mistake that he had to find and it was elusive. ‘They do hate you.’ 

They also weren’t really interns. They were first year junior research assistants. But that was too much of a mouthful so everyone called them interns.

‘Why? What did I do?’ To Q’s amusement, Bond actually sounded somewhat put out at the notion of not being universally loved. 

Which Q knew to be false because Bond didn’t give a damn what anyone thought of him. Well, apart from the previous M. He had never seen them together but it seemed to be accepted throughout the service that Bond had been her favourite and that Bond had held her in high affection too. Q himself had seen Bond ever so briefly at M’s funeral and the bleak look in his eyes, along with the slightly haunted air about him seemed to support the general consensus. 

‘You have to ask?’ 

Bond grinned down at him, looking genuinely amused. ‘Well, I wouldn’t want to admit to anything not already attributed to me.’ 

‘Very wise,’ Q said dryly. 

‘I’ll just have to find a way to win over your colleagues and your interns.’

‘Please don’t, Bond,’ he practically begged. He knew it was a mistake, giving Bond such naked ammunition, but he could only imagine the complaints that would come his way if Bond tried to charm his department. The resignation rate would be horrific. 

‘Why not?’

‘You’ll only make the situation worse.’ 

‘You think I can’t do it?’ Oh, brilliant. He was taking it as a challenge. Well, that was just bloody perfect. 

‘What? Make the situation worse? Believe me, 007, I have complete confidence in your ability to turn any situation - good or bad - into a shitstorm.’ 

‘You say the sweetest things, Q,’ Bond teased, his voice warm and, Q imagined, intimate. 

It made Q want to squirm in his chair. It was most discomforting. 

‘Go away, Bond.’ 

‘But you didn’t answer my question.’ 

‘What question?’ 

‘Whether or not you think I can win over the rest of your department as thoroughly as I’ve won over you.’ 

Had he been drinking tea, Q would have choked. As it was, though, his hands froze over his keyboard for a fraction of a second before he was able to continue as though his brain hadn’t momentarily stuttered. 

Bond was teasing him. It meant nothing. There was no way he actually knew. 

‘What makes you think you’ve managed to win me over?’ 

With a knowing smirk, Bond reached over and rested a hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. He leaned forward, bringing his mouth level with Q’s ear. His breath was hot on Q’s neck and the heat coming off Bond’s body made Q flush. ‘Because I have such a winning personality.’

Q was currently re-evaluating his assumption that Bond was clueless. 

‘007, I understand that you currently have nothing to blow up and are, to put it mildly, bored out of your skull, but some of us have actual work to do.’ He was proud by how his voice didn’t waver, just sounded mildly perturbed. 

Bond, surprisingly didn’t say anything. Instead, he patted Q’s shoulder before standing and completely ignoring the concept of personal space. Q’s mouth was currently closer to Bond’s toned stomach than he’d ever expected. Polite company - or work colleagues - would be shocked if they could see how close Bond was to him. With a quick glance through the window he was relieved to see that there was currently no-one at the workstation that looked into his office. Which was strange as Sally and a couple of others had been there a while ago. But Q wasn’t going to question such good fortune too closely. 

‘I’ll leave you to it then.’ It felt as though Bond’s fingers lingered a moment on his shoulder before he walked back towards the door. ‘I’d hate to be a nuisance.’

‘You live to be a nuisance,’ Q said, staring at Bond’s broad back. A part of his brain was traitorously wishing that Bond had forgone his jacket so the play of his muscles would be visible. Clearly he needed to remind that part of his brain that they were trying desperately not to notice such things about Bond because it could only end badly for them. 

‘It’s important to have a goal in life,’ said Bond, pushing the door open, the noise from the lab intruding. He paused briefly, still in the doorway before he turned back. ‘And don’t worry about the early warning system. I won’t tell any of the others.’ 

Before Q could tell him that Q Branch didn’t need Bond keeping their secrets for them, he was already gone. 

Shaking his head, Q sat staring at the door, unable to stop himself from wondering about Bond. It was difficult to say for sure, seeing as how he hadn’t known Bond before the Silva debacle, but it seemed to him that the man was acting strangely. Of course he’d read Bond’s extensive file - the sheer size of it had Q relieved that MI6 had already moved away from paper in that regard - but that wasn’t the same as actually knowing the man himself. And there was no-one he could ask about it without raising suspicions. Eve hadn’t known him before _that_ mission. Ronson had died before Q had even become Q and met Bond. Tanner’s eyebrows would disappear into his hairline and M - this, M - only knew of him by reputation. 

He would phone John, but, honestly he didn’t think he’d be able to handle the laughter. He was just going to have to figure it out himself. Somehow. 

Checking the time on his laptop, Q decided he’d left it long enough to ensure Bond was well away from the labs. With a muted sigh he stood, closing the laptop as he did. He might as well go and find Gemma, see what damage Bond had caused.


End file.
